


Dumb Boys, Thank You Notes

by SushiOwl



Series: Tumblr Commissions [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Deaf Clint Barton, Embedded Images, Holidays, M/M, Texting, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-08-13 09:05:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7971013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SushiOwl/pseuds/SushiOwl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint doesn't really have anywhere to go for Thanksgiving break, so he stays on campus. It would be fine if he could stop running into that hot transfer student all the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dumb Boys, Thank You Notes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyHawke72](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyHawke72/gifts).



> Commission for ladyhawke72 on Tumblr! :D I went a little graphic crazy with this one.

When Clint woke up on the first day of Thanksgiving break it was with a throbbing brain, a mouth that tasted like butt and a post-it note stuck to his cheek. He discovered that third one after trying to cover his face against the assault from the light coming from and felt paper against his arm. With a sour grunt, he peeled it off his skin and looked at it, squinting.

Rolling his eyes, Clint had to wonder when Nat would finally run out of those Halloween spider sticky notes she had bought a metric fuck ton of in the beginning of Freshman year. He stared at it a moment, before he rolled over and opened his bedside drawer to tuck the note into the box he kept all of his best friend’s little messages in.

He got up, grabbing his hearing aids and assessing his state of clothing for going to get foodstuffs. He was in his pajamas, and the top had sweat stains at the pits, but he was going to be wearing a coat anyway. He didn’t pay much mind to his How To Train Your Dragon sleep pants, and just gave his hair a cursory ruffle with his fingers on the way out. It wasn’t like he was going to run into anyone he was trying to impress.

As Clint trekked across campus, he had to be thankful that the place was practically deserted. When the quad was packed with students, he could hear them, but he couldn’t make out the words, like they were the adults in a Charlie Brown cartoon and underwater. It was too overwhelming to try to look at everyone and read their lips, especially when they weren’t looking directly at him. So he just alternated between looking straight ahead and down at his ratty shoes.

But now he could look where he wanted, and that was nice. He thought about spending the week on campus and having free reign of the library’s computers and archery course. He thought about the Thanksgiving meal the main cafeteria hall was serving on that Thursday. Processed turkey with instant mashed potatoes, runny gravy, rubber veggies, bouncy stuffing and all the canned cranberry sauce he could eat. It may have not been gourmet, but it was free, and that was what was important to Clint.

He could smell the espresso steam as he rounded the corner toward the small coffee stand by the library, and he pulled out his phone to check his messages as he got behind the whole one person in line. He didn’t have much by the way of texts, just a chain message from a few of his classmates about having a good break and also a picture from Bobbi of the Now Leaving New York City Limits sign.

Clint hoped he could actually get some sleep now that he wasn’t going to be studying like crazy or be dragged around the college town by his friends. He could definitely see the bags under his eyes lessening in shade without Nat around to challenge him to vodka shot contests every two minutes. Though he was going to miss having her around.

He stepped forward, thinking the person in front of him was moving away after getting their coffee, but he thought wrong because he was staring mostly at his phone, and he bumped right into them. He immediately started to apologize, carefully of the volume of his voice, and held his phone against his chest as the person turned and looked at him.

Oh _god_ it was the guy. The guy he kept staring at whenever he peeped him on campus. The guy with the wonderful chin and bright eyes--which were slate blue-grey up this close. The guy who either rocked the man bun hipster or the unwashed hobo looks. The guy that always seemed to have a touchable layer of two day stubble on his face. That guy.

Clint was pretty sure his name was James… something. Started with a B probably.

James Maybe-B glared at Clint halfheartedly, before he looked down at his HTTYD jammy pants then back up, expression a little bit more concerned. “Watch -- are going,” he said, or at least Clint assumed, as mumbling lips were hard to read even if they were pretty lips. Then he walked off, sipping at his--was that a fucking _bubble tea?_

Those pretty lips were doubly pretty sucking on a straw.

When Clint looked back at the lady running the coffee stand, he could tell by her eyes and polite smile that she just _knew._

As he ordered his very tall and very sugary drink, he hoped he wouldn’t run into that guy again.

* * *

The next day, he was right. He didn’t see the angrydreamy guy again, but that was probably because he stayed in his dorm and played Sailor Moon Drops on his phone while eating Nat’s “secret” cookie stash.

* * *

The next day after that, he forgot he was avoiding him and went to the library on campus to spend an obscene amount of time on Tumblr.

There were a few students at the computers, he noticed as he headed to the one in the back corner where Nat had hacked it to allow social media. But then he stopped when he noticed glaresexy guy in the chair. And of course he stared, because he was wearing his hair in a messy bun and had a pen between his teeth. He looked up from the computer and the dozens of music sheets spread out in front of him, lifting his dark brows.

“Aw, computer,” Clint felt himself say, and the guy squinted at him in confusion. “Sorry.” 

He should probably start backing up now, maybe going to find another way to entertain himself, but then the guy said. “Did you want--” He looked at the computer, nodding to it as he continued to speak, and Clint took a stab.

“Yeah,” he said, and the guy looked back at him. “It’s modded. I was gonna check my blog.”

The guy nodded, before he started to gather up his papers, quickly putting them in some kind of order and exiting out of the web pages he had been on. Clint watched, surprised, as he moved over one seat and sprawled his papers all over there. He gestured to the seat he vacated, lips moving in a mumble that Clint couldn’t read. He took the seat anyway.

Okay, now that he was sitting next to James, who could easily see his screen if he looked, he was too attuned to his presence to actually get on his Tumblr. His dash was as much dick and butt as it was circus memes and archery enthusiasts. He could have looked at Tumblr on his phone, but the images never loaded ever. He wished he could have used Nat’s laptop, but he would have to pry that from her ever reaching zombie hands. So he turned the ancient box monitor away from James as slowly and discreetly as he could.

It was definitely not discreet, because James looked over momentarily before returning to his work. Clint put _NSFW_ and every porny keyword he could think of in his TS list just in case.

* * *

Clint wasn’t expecting this to happen again, but when he got to the library the next day, James was there sitting in the same spot next to the computer he liked to use. He headed over, and James looked up and smiled oh so slightly at him, mumbling a greeting. Clint tried to get his face to do normal person things and greeted him back before sitting down.

Clint wondered, as he scrolled through a few obscenely happy Thanksgiving posts on Tumblr, if his interaction with James was made possible through the process of elimination. Maybe he just wanted someone to talk to and had very limited options. Not that they were talking.

Then a hand touched his arm, and he jumped so hard his soul about vacated his body. He whipped his head over to look at James, who had an equally wide-eyed look.

James’s lips formed the words, “Sorry, I guess you didn’t hear me. I was trying to ask what you--” He looked to his computer screen, still talking, and Clint was doing his best to guess at what he was saying, but he was coming up pretty empty as James didn’t seem to know how to enunciate. 

When James looked at him again, a question on his face, Clint blinked at him. “Sorry, what?”

James looked confused, before he started mumbling again. “What are you doing over break? I was--” And he looked at the computer again, still talking, before he looked down, tilting his head and moving his lips again.

“Dude,” Clint said, interrupting him. “Can you look at me when you talk?” At James’s confused look that was rapidly becoming an offended look, Clint smiled sheepishly. “I need to read your lips, man.”

James’s face smoothed out in shock, his eyes going to one of Clint’s ears to the other and no doubt noticing the hearing aids. “Sorry!” he said, reaching up to touch his lips before he quickly pulled them away again.

“No worries,” Clint said, reaching down and turning the chair toward James. “What were you trying to ask me?”

Then like the vast majority of people that found out he was legally deaf, James tried to help him read lips by holding out his vowels and thus made the job of reading what he was saying an unintelligible nightmare. Clint tried, oh my god did he try. But eventually he just rubbed his eyes and sighed.

“Can you talk normally?” he asked James when he got a confused look. “It’s hard to read your lips when you’re--” He made an indistinct gesture at his own mouth.

James frowned, before he chewed his lips a moment then started to shuffle through his papers. He found a piece of paper with the top filled with notes and tore the empty half off. He scribbled on it a minute, scratching out things and few times before he handed it over.

Clint stared at the note a minute, then looked at James, who stared back with his brows up. Wordless and trying not to freak out, Clint started frantically searching for a pen, before he stopped when James held out the one he’d used. With a withering laugh, Clint took it and wrote his number down on the note, his years of archery training unable to keep his hand steady.

Soon James had the number and was tapping out a short message. (His phone had an American flag case, which _what?_ ) Clint’s phone vibrated twice in his pocket, and he pulled it out.

 **Unknown:** I hope asking for your number isn’t as creepy as I am thinking it is now.

Snorting to himself, Clint wondered if his face was hot because the possible radioactive leakage from the twenty-year-old computers or if he was actually blushing. He added James as a contact, looking at him a second before replying.

 **Me:** it’s okay not a lot of people know how to talk to a deaf guy when they don’t know sign language

James nodded, pressing his lips into a line.

 **Me:** what were you trying to ask me before?

 **James:** Are you doing anything over break?

 **Me:** just gonna eat turkey until I vomit

Clint looked up to see James chuckle, and the little smile on his lips was handsome as hell.

 **James:** I don’t really understand Thanksgiving.

 **Me:** well it is all about togetherness and giving thanks for what you have. it comes from when the native americans shared their food with the settlers so they could survive the winter or something

 **Me:** and the settlers returned their kindness with blankets covered in smallpox

Clint looked up, expecting horror, but James’s face was completely placid. Clint’s phone buzzed.

 **James:** That’s very European.

Snorting, Clint looked at James, who was smiling at him. But then James looked down again and pulled his lips to the side.

 **James:** I need to go to practice.

He turned and started gathering up his music sheets.

 **Me:** what do you play?

 **James:** Piano. I wish I could play for you.

 **Me:** why cant you?

Clint looked up, and James frowned at him before pointing to his own ear. Clint frowned back and said aloud, “You have heard of Beethoven, right?”

James stared at him, his eyes getting progressively wider, before he full on facepalmed so hard it looked like it _hurt._ Then he grinned, and it was wonderful, before he shook his head and lifted his phone again.

 **James:** Well, that just happened.

 **James:** Can I text you later?

Clint didn’t giggle. That was definitely a manly noise that came out of his mouth probably.

 **Me:** yeah theyre gonna start serving the thanksgiving food tomorrow. we should eat more than is healthy then fall into sodium comas

James stared at that text a moment, a pensive little smile on his face.

 **James:** That sounds godawful. I’m in.

Yeah, that was definitely a giggle that left Clint’s chest that time. He smiled up at James as he got his backpack on, and James smiled back, waving bye, before he headed out of the library. And the moment he was out the door, Clint whipped his phone up so fast he almost smacked himself in the nose.

**Swan ♥ Queen:** I am the opposite of surprised. What problem?

 **Me:** code red

 **Swan ♥ Queen:** You spilled spaghetti sauce in your bookbag again?

 **Me:** what

 **Me:** no

 **Me:** whats the code for freaking out about hot dude need advice?

 **Swan ♥ Queen:** What hot dude?

 **Me:** the only one i get all a twitter about when I see him. that guy James

 **Swan ♥ Queen:** Rhodes?

 **Swan ♥ Queen:** I doubt you want to fight that squirrely nerd freshman for him.

 **Me:** not Rhodes! the other one

 **Swan ♥ Queen:** Hudson?

 **Me:** no

 **Swan ♥ Queen:** Howlett.

**Me:** Nat 

**Swan ♥ Queen:** Braddock?

 **Me:** okay now i know youre just fucking with me

 **Swan ♥ Queen:** Maybe.

 **Swan ♥ Queen:** You mean the Romanian transfer student, right? James Barnes.

 **Me:** yes him!

 **Swan ♥ Queen:** Why do you need advice?

 **Swan ♥ Queen:** I’m not teaching you how to stalk people.

 **Me:** i don’t need to stalk him. we exchanged numbers

 **Swan ♥ Queen:** This is not a problem, asshole!

 **Me:** I DONT KNOW HOW TO TALK TO HOT PEOPLE

 **Swan ♥ Queen:** You talk to me all the time.

 **Me:** yeah but i don’t wanna date you

 **Swan ♥ Queen:** I’m offended.

 **Me:** anymore

 **Swan ♥ Queen:** Less offended.

 **Me:** he wont let me read his lips

 **Swan ♥ Queen:** Is he self-conscious about it?

 **Me:** yeah

 **Swan ♥ Queen:** He’ll get better if he wants to try.

 **Me:** were having thanksgiving food tomorrow

 **Swan ♥ Queen:** You’re going to make the Romanian boy sick.

 **Me:** probably

 **Swan ♥ Queen:** He’s going to make you eat pork twenty-five ways.

 **Me:** i only want it one way

 **Swan ♥ Queen:** You’re not my friend.

 **Swan ♥ Queen:** Gotta go socialize with family now.

 **Me:** did they find your hiding spot?

 **Swan ♥ Queen:** Yes.

 **Swan ♥ Queen:** Be good, Arrowhead.

 **Me:** no promises

After messing around a bit more on Tumblr and somehow avoiding shouting about his crush to his followers, Clint went back to his housing and plopped onto his bed. Maybe he should take a nap. The emotional release of talking and getting to his your crush was _exhausting!_ He kicked off his shoes and wiggled out of his pants, before rolling up like a taquito. Before he passed out, his last thought was James’s sweet smile.

* * *

Clint’s phone buzzed in his hand, and he woke up to find it was after nine at night. He winced and pulled out his hearing aids, his ears aching a little, before he looked at the message.

 **James:** Sorry, practice ran long. My teacher is a taskmaster. 

**Me:** its cool. wanna grab some late dinner from the caf?

 **James:** I’m exhausted. I’m seeing music notes every time I close my eyes. Tomorrow from Thanksgiving lunch?

 **Me:** sure thing

Clint got up to take a shower and stuff his face with whatever was the least expired item in his mini fridge.

* * *

The next day, Clint managed not to text James the moment he was awake, but only because Nat had sent him a terse message that desperation wasn’t cute. So he decided to wait and see if James texted him first. When he didn’t, he figured it wouldn’t be too weird to go to the eating hall and wait for him… an hour early.

He felt less ridiculous about it when he got there and James was already sitting at one of the round tables, music sheets all around him. Suppressing a giddy smile, Clint walked over, thought about bumping his shoulder but decided to just walk around into his field of vision. When James looked up, startled, Clint smiled at him. “Hey.”

James smiled back, before he grabbed his phone.

 **James:** I came here to get some work done before lunch, but that was a mistake.

 **Me:** why?

 **James:** Because I can smell them cooking, and I don’t know what they’re cooking, but I want it.

Clint chuckled, taking a deep breath.

 **Me:** smells like turkey and ham to me

 **James:** I wanted to show you something.

Well, that came out of nowhere.

 **Me:** what?

 **James:** Look up.

Clint did, and James set down his phone. He took a breath, looking up a second. Then he placed his hand over his heart. And Clint took in a sharp breath when he realized James was starting to _sign!_

Clint didn’t know what to do at first. No one had learned how to sign for him so fast after meeting him. He swallowed and just said, “Hey, Bucky.”

Bucky grinned at him, before he lifted his hands again, curling them into fists and making them nod (all nyan cat style). _Can--_ He put his hand over his heart again. _I--_ He touched the left side of his chest and made a circle with his fingers. _Please--_ Then he lifted his fingers to his mouth, and he paused, going a little wide-eyed. He looked at Clint, his cheeks coloring as he apparently forgot the sign he was making and then reached forward his phone.

But Clint took a stab in the dark at what he was asking and slid his chair over, taking Bucky’s by the sides of his face and pulling him to connect their lips. He was warm and smelled like mint, which Clint enjoyed, but he probably wouldn’t have cared what he smelled like at all in the moment. Though if he smelled like pepperoni, Clint would have climbed into his lap and sucked his tongue from his skull.

When Clint sat back, he felt himself breathing a bit hard, because who remembered to breathe during a first kiss with their crush? Thankfully Bucky was in the same boat, his lips parted and a bit bruised. This was the first time Clint had ever kissed someone stupid, and it was going in his journal.

Bucky slowly pulled back, grabbing his phone.

 **James:** So what’s the sign for kiss?

Clint took a second to change Bucky’s contact info in his phone. He lifted his right hand to his mouth, just barely touching his lips, before he arced them up to touch near his ear, smiling. When Bucky imitated him, he nodded in approval, and Bucky grinned.

 **Bucky:** Good to know. So tell me more about this Thanksgiving tradition Americans have.

Clint snorted, and he went to type a response, but Bucky waved a hand at him.

 **Bucky:** No, can I hear your voice?

Clint’s heart did a happy cartwheel, and he sat back with his phone between his hands in his lap. Bucky mimicked him, getting comfortable, and Clint nudged Bucky’s feet with his. “Well, I grew up with a whole mess of crazies, and we all had our own definition of Thanksgiving…”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it!
> 
> Come say hi to me on [my Tumblr](http://thesushiowl.tumblr.com/post/149211040506/commission-faq)!


End file.
